


keep me warm (you're my home)

by RomanoJet



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Azure Moon Route, Childhood Friends to Lovers, Cuddling, M/M, Sylvix Week 2020 (Fire Emblem), warmth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:14:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26635696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RomanoJet/pseuds/RomanoJet
Summary: As if it was a law of the universe, if Felix was cold, then Sylvain was there to warm him up.or: Sylvain warms Felix up when they are children, when they are students, when they are adults, and when they are married.Sylvix Week Day 4: Warmth
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 8
Kudos: 61
Collections: Sylvix Week 2020 Fic Collection





	keep me warm (you're my home)

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably my favourite fic I've written for sylvix week, so I hope you all enjoy :) it's for Day 4: Warmth!
> 
> Also!!!! My amazing friend @EarthyTruce drew a gorgeous piece to accompany this fic!! Please check it out on Twitter!!! Thank you so much Earthy ;v;

_ Children _

Snow is falling, fat flakes sticking to the glass before sliding down to dot the ground in a growing mass of white. Felix presses his hands against the window, delighting in the way they leave impressions on the chilly, fogged-up surface. It’s dark, but he had asked to stay up past his bedtime today, because the Gautiers are due to arrive soon for their visit. 

They had been delayed in the snowstorm, Glenn had explained to him. But they’ll get here safe. If anyone knows winter, it’s a Gautier. 

Felix doesn’t really get all that, because all he cares about is all the fun he’ll have with Sylvain when he gets here. They can play with his new toys, or play knights with Glenn, or read books together! Everything seems ten times more fun when his bestest friend ever is visiting. Dima and Ingrid are nice, but they aren’t Sylvain. 

Finally, he sees a watery light bobbing beyond the gates outside. Soon enough, the jingling of horses and the gritty sound of carriage wheels on the shoveled path fill the air, and Felix scrambles to the front door, shoving Glenn when he tries to playfully trip him on the way. Rodrigue gives them both a raised-eyebrow look before opening the door, dressed in his finest robes despite the late hour. A few snowflakes curl into the house on a swirl of frigid air. 

A servant stands outside the carriage, opening the door and allowing the Margrave to emerge into the snowy air, as well as the other Gautiers. Felix shivers, not just from the cold, as Miklan’s gaze passes over him. He’s never really known what to think about Sylvain’s older brother, except that Sylvain seems like he doesn’t really like him, or is at least wary of him. That means Felix doesn’t like him, either. 

But then Sylvain comes out of the carriage behind his mother, and Felix’s face lights up. He’s supposed to stay behind Rodrigue, but he flies forward, crashing into Sylvain with an _ oof.  _ He hugs him tight, grinning up at him. Snow already peppers his bright red hair. It may be cold outside, but it’s always warm in Sylvain’s embrace. 

“Felix,” Rodrigue says exasperatedly, but he can do little to stop the reunion. 

Sylvain smiles back down at Felix. He’s only a few years older, but he already seems so much bigger as he hugs his friend in turn. “Missed me?” he asks, a grin in his voice. 

“C’mon,” Felix insists. “I gotta show you all my new stuff!” His birthday had just passed, and Rodrigue and Glenn had both gotten him tons of gifts. He can’t wait to show Sylvain. 

“One sec, Fe,” Sylvain laughs, and looks over at his father. The smile on his face seems to wilt a little at what he sees, and he turns Felix around and urges him to go back to his family. 

After Felix is back behind him, shivering now that he is devoid of his warm friend, Rodrigue clears his throat. “Right. Allow me to formally welcome you to Fraldarius, Margrave Gautier. If you come inside, I’ll show you to your rooms. Each one has been prepared with a fire in the grate already for your maximum comfort. The storm is stronger than we had anticipated, so we can proceed with our meetings tomorrow.” 

“Thank you,” rumbles the Margrave, following Rodrigue inside, his family in his wake. Miklan sneers at Felix as he passes, and Felix sticks his tongue out at him. Glenn lightly whacks him upside the head when he sees. 

Felix doesn’t care. As soon as the Gautiers are led to their separate rooms, he chases after Sylvain, bouncing excitedly in the doorway until the servant is done lighting all the candles. The fire is roaring in the fireplace, washing the room in mellow oranges and yellows. Sylvain is practically glowing, his hair the same warm colour as the fire. 

The servant chuckles and ruffles Felix’s hair before she leaves. He grins after her and then tumbles into the room, crashing into Sylvain again with a giggle. He knocks him right over, ending up on top of him. 

Sylvain gazes up at him, his boyish face aglow with happiness. Except...Felix squints, seeing a dark spot on Syl’s upper cheek that he hadn’t noticed before. Lightly, he presses his hand to it. Sylvain winces. 

“What happened?” Felix demands. Already, at the prospect of his best friend being hurt, he can feel tears threatening to build up, and his eyes sting. 

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” Sylvain soothes, making no attempt to sit up. He’s content to lay under Felix like this. “I just tripped earlier this week. The bruise’ll go away soon. I’m just clumsy, Fe.”

Felix sniffs, clinging to Sylvain’s shirt. “Are you sure?” For some reason, Sylvain’s words don’t sound real. Sure, they sound like he’s said them a lot of times, but only because he has to.

“Yeah.” Sylvain sits up then, giving Felix another hug. “Don’t worry. But anyway; Fe, are you shivering?”

Felix pouts, staring up at Sylvain. “No!” He’s easily diverted from the topic, too young to really grasp the severity of the situation. 

He chuckles. “Yeah, you are. Look, you’re all shaky.” He holds Felix’s hand out, showing him the way it’s trembling. “Are you cold?”

Furrowing his brow, Felix shakes his head. Just because he ran out into the snow to see his friend doesn’t mean he’s cold! And he’s with Sylvain now, so he doesn’t have to be chilly anymore.

“C’mon, let’s get you warmed up.” And before Felix can protest, Sylvain is hauling him to his feet, guiding him towards the bed. 

They tangle themselves in the covers, all snuggled together. Usually, they do this with Ingrid and Dima also in the pile, but they aren’t here, so Felix has to get extra cuddly with Sylvain for more warmth. Sylvain doesn’t seem to mind at all, that soft smile still on his face. Felix’s earlier sadness is all but forgotten, now safe under the covers with his best friend in the whole world. 

He doesn’t feel cold anymore, not with Sylvain beside him. “Syl?” he whispers. 

“What is it, Fe?”

“Wouldn’t it be great if you could live here?” he asks, wondering why Sylvain’s breath hitches a little. He wriggles closer, his eyes bright even in the flame-tinged darkness. “Then we’d never be cold ‘cause we’d do this every night.”

Sylvain smiles sadly. “Yeah. That’d be nice.” He pulls Felix a little closer, enough to tuck his head into the crook of his neck. “For now, I’ll keep you warm as long as I can, Fe.” 

Felix feels utterly content. He gives a tranquil sigh and closes his eyes, drifting off to sleep safe in Sylvain’s warm embrace.

* * *

_ Students  
_

“Why is it so fucking cold.” 

Felix’s complaining tone drifts back to where Sylvain is walking, guiding his horse along on the path with the rest of the Blue Lions. They’re returning from the monthly mission that the Professor took them on, even though it’s cold and miserable outside. 

Sylvain is at the back of the group with Dimitri, both of them deciding to give their horses a well-earned rest and just walk beside them for now. Sylvain can see Felix in the front, walking beside Annette. Having grown up in the coldest place in all of Fódlan, Sylvain isn’t too bothered by the temperature, especially with how much further south Garreg Mach is. But Felix, it seems, still wants to complain. Probably because Annette is now attempting to warm him up by clasping his hands with hers, giggling. 

Something twists a little in Sylvain’s gut at the sight, and he looks away. He wants. He wants so badly it’s eating him up inside. Dimitri, beside him, looks a little worried at his expression, but says nothing. 

It’s a long march, but they eventually trek through the gates of Garreg Mach just after sundown, shivering, cold, and wet with snow turned to rain. The Professor gives the order to go and get warm while he meets with Seteth. 

Sylvain heads to the stables first, boarding his horse and brushing her down. He feeds her, gives her a smooch on the forehead for a job well done, and leaves. 

He doesn’t really know what to do, now. He could just go to his room, get into something dry, and fall asleep. But his mind is buzzing and he feels restless, so instead of climbing the staircase, he goes to the commonroom. There’s a giant fire roaring in the grill, flooding the room with warmth. No one is there, except for a lone figure in front of the fire, sharpening his blade. 

“Felix?”

_ Shiick.  _ The whetstone slides along the blade. “Oh. It’s you, Sylvain.”

Sylvain goes to sit beside him, making sure to avoid poking himself on the end of the sword. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Felix eyes him, then looks back down at his blade. “Our rooms are too drafty for my tastes,” he mumbles. “I was cold.”

Sylvain chuckles. “Yeah, I feel that. Mind if I join you by the fire?”

Felix shrugs. “Do what you want.” He goes back to sharpening his weapon. 

Sylvain makes himself comfortable, enjoying the heat of the fire. It’s almost soothing, the crackling of logs combined with the metallic sound of Felix’s sword being sharpened. It’s a good way to unwind after the mission. But something still feels a little off. 

“You know, I thought you might be with Annette,” he jokes, keeping one eye on Felix to see his reaction. “You guys were walking back together.”

“She’s with Mercedes right now,” Felix says flatly. “And I need to do this job.” 

“Right, right.” Now the silence is awkward. He needs to fix this by changing the subject entirely. “Hey, remember when we were kids and we’d all play shadow puppets in our rooms? You really liked it when I did the butterfly.” He grins, forming his hands into the vague shape of a butterfly, flapping the wings a little. 

Felix rolls his eyes. “We were children, of course we were easily transfixed. But yes, I remember.” 

Sylvain laughs, this time making a dog shape. The fire casts a vague shadow on the wall, enough to see the outline of it. Sure enough, it looks like a dog, and he makes it bark. 

He’s watching Felix’s face, and when he ends up doing a cat shaped shadow, he finally sees what he wants: a hint of a smile. It’s gone as quick as it came, but Sylvain feels warmth rising in his chest all the same. 

Eventually, Felix sheathes the sword and lays it to the side. Sylvain thinks he’s going to leave, but strangely enough, he stays, staring into the fire with a measured expression. 

“Fe?” he asks, scooting a little closer. 

Felix doesn’t quite meet his eyes, though he does turn his head. “I’m still cold.” 

The words are so soft Sylvain barely hears them. Is this...an invitation? He can hardly breathe, but he shifts even closer. Felix doesn’t move. And Sylvain  _ wants _ . 

So, he slowly extends his arm and puts it around Felix’s shoulders, leaning him close to share his warmth. Felix doesn’t protest, instead giving a small sigh and allowing his head to rest on Sylvain’s shoulder, closing his eyes. 

Sylvain almost feels giddy. Does this mean that Felix feels the same way towards him? Getting a straight answer out of him at this point is wholly unlikely, with the vulnerability he’s already shown, so he decides not to push his luck and instead indulge in what Felix has granted him. 

He isn’t sure how much time passes, but he’s fallen into a comfortable state of rest, only vaguely aware of how they’re sitting. It’s then that Felix shifts, and Sylvain’s breath catches, wondering if he’s going to leave. But instead, Felix sleepily pitches forward, seating himself directly in Sylvain’s lap and resting his head against his chest. Shocked, Sylvain can only sit there, a new weight heavy in his lap. Is Felix just half-asleep and unaware of what he’s doing? Maybe the childhood stories from before had reminded him of the times when he used to do exactly this, in front of the fires in their rooms as boys. Back then, Sylvain had always been glad to cuddle him for warmth. 

Now, however, Sylvain gulps. Should he wake Felix in case he gets mad when he awakens on his own? He would, but...Sylvain is selfish. He’s selfish, and he wants this. So he doesn’t move to wake him up. He remains still as Felix dozes off completely, his head lolling to the crease of his jacket. Sylvain hasn’t witnessed him let down his guard as thoroughly as this since before the Tragedy, and there’s a strange sense of pride rising in his chest that it’s  _ him _ who Felix trusts enough to do it with. He doesn’t know if this is a sign that Felix wants him too, in the way that he wishes he could have him, but the fire of hope has been lit. 

Slowly, his arms rise to cradle Felix’s body. Felix doesn’t protest, making a small sound in his sleep and shifting. Maybe he’s still cold. Sylvain’s goal is still to warm him up, just as he had set out to do when Felix had asked. 

He gives a small sigh, his heart aching with such close proximity to something he will likely never earn. Felix’s affections are a hard thing to win in the first place, but even if he can, his father will never allow him to truly love someone who cannot produce crest babies by the dozen. It’s a noose around his neck, pulling tight every time he tries to move away from what his family expects of him. 

But he  _ wants _ . Maybe, on the off chance Felix returns his affections and actually tells him...he can afford to explore and allow the relationship to grow. He and Felix can work something out about the Margrave. Maybe, maybe, maybe. He exhales, his thoughts muddied. He’s thinking much too far ahead when nothing has even happened yet.

He adjusts his arms better around Felix for the maximum amount of warmth, giving him a small, fond smile that he cannot see. “Sleep tight, Fe,” he whispers, and looks back into the flames.

* * *

_ Adults  _

“He’s not here.” 

Sylvain can hear the defeat in Felix’s voice, and even before he finishes his sentence, he knows. The tip was a wild goose chase. They would not find Dimitri here. 

“Come on. We need to go.” Felix, never one to linger somewhere there is nothing useful for him, storms away from the clearly abandoned shack. 

Sylvain sighs, and follows him. They’re in the Tailtean Plains, it’s snowing hard, and they’ve been searching for Dimitri for months now. 

Felix had shown up at his estate one day, fresh from a skirmish with Empire soldiers on the Gautier border, and told Sylvain that he didn’t believe that Dimitri was dead. There was evidence, tales of a large, hulking figure, more monster than man. Signs that the execution, where no one had seen Dimitri’s body, had not been a success. Felix had asked Sylvain to come with him to search. Sylvain, naturally, had agreed in a heartbeat. 

So they set out. Without the two of them, Fraldarius and Gautier soldiers could continue to hold the territories with their fathers in charge. Sylvain and Felix would take down any Empire soldiers they saw, but their primary objective was to find the lost king. 

“Felix?” Sylvain calls. He can barely see three steps ahead of him in the worsening snowfall. The wind is picking up. Sylvain has spent far too much time in frigid Gautier winters, and he knows an impending snowstorm when he sees one. 

Felix materialises at his side, melting through the snow. “What?” he snarls. 

“We need to find shelter. We’ll freeze to death in this storm.” 

Felix scowls. “We have to keep going.” 

“Felix. We won’t be of use to anyone, let alone His Highness, if we die here.” Sylvain puts a hand on his shoulder, and after a few seconds of tense silence, Felix’s gaze softens infinitesimally. 

“Fine.”

So Sylvain takes his hand, laces their fingers together, and leads him to where he thinks he saw an opening in the rocks earlier. They’re lucky that they’re near the rocks at all, really. If they had been further out on the plain, they’d surely be lost to the winds, frozen to the ground with no hope of rescue or survival. But because the Goddess seems to favour them for at least this moment, Sylvain is soon ducking into a crevice between the rocks, the space opening up into a small cave. Felix wriggles in after him. It is still bitterly cold in here, but at least they’re not being lashed at mercilessly by the frigid wind and snow anymore. 

Silently, Felix sits down and begins unloading his pack. They only have two bedrolls and a small supply of food and water, since they had left most of their things at the small village where they had received the tip about this section of the plains. They had left their horses there too, since there was no possibility of the animals being able to traverse the uneven, snow-covered plain. 

Sylvain takes off his cloak and begins affixing it to the entrance of the cave, pinning it down with heavy rocks. This way, the wind won’t be as successful in making its way inside. He takes the Lance of Ruin off his back and props it up near the entrance, the weapon’s eerie light illuminating the cave in a muddy glow. Lastly, he sheds his armour, the cold metal surrounding his body making it hard to retain much warmth. 

In the time he takes to do this, Felix has prepared a small bit of rations for them both. When Sylvain sits down beside him, he wordlessly hands him his share. 

“Thank you,” he says, taking it. He spends a couple seconds taking in Felix’s face, noting the worried lines creasing his forehead. He might be anxious about the storm, but Sylvain knows it has more to do with the tip about Dimitri yielding zero results. Every lead that they had followed so far has come up short. But Sylvain knows Felix will not give up. 

He leans over, pressing a small kiss to Felix’s cheek. The other man looks up, startled, a ghost of a blush blooming on his face at the sudden action. 

“Eat. We’ll wait out the storm, then find the next lead,” he says firmly. “We’ll find him, Fe. You know what’s coming up, don’t you?” 

Felix sighs, looking at the rations in his hand. “Yeah,” he mutters. “The five year anniversary.” 

It’s hard to believe that that much time has passed since the Blue Lions, unaware of the war-torn future awaiting them, innocently promised to all meet up again five years from that day. But Sylvain thinks they should keep that promise. If the others all remember too...there’s a chance they might just find exactly who they’re looking for. “We should go,” he says. 

Felix inclines his head, his hair falling over his eyes. “...We should.” He then focuses on his food. 

Sylvain does as well, thinking about their former classmates, Dimitri, and the war. It’s all so tiring, and it would be so easy for them to call it quits and run away. But he won’t. He’ll stay strong. 

He thinks about the relationship he and Felix had kindled at Garreg Mach, before the war decimated the monastery and swept across their country. He thinks about how they had been separated for so long, fighting on the same front but so many kilometres away. How they had found each other again, and found comfort in each other like no time had passed at all. In this war, Sylvain thinks, he is fighting for two things. His king and country, of course. But more importantly, he is fighting for a future with Felix. He wants to live in a world where he can be with Felix, at peace, and grow old with him. To live with him until they die together, as they had promised all those years ago. 

Felix is staring at him. “You’ve got that look on your face. You’re thinking of something sappy, aren’t you?”

Sylvain grins, only slightly sheepish. “Maybe. I was just thinking about you, Fefe. How much I love you.” He wouldn’t enlighten Felix with the full extent of his thoughts just yet. 

Felix snorts. “Of course. Like I said. Sap.” 

Sylvain scoots closer, nuzzling his nose into Felix’s cheek. “I can’t help it,” he laments. “You’re just so alluring. One look in your eyes and I’m captivated! The amber depths pull me-”

“That’s enough,” Felix says, rolling his eyes. He pushes Sylvain’s face away gently. His lips are quirked up into a tiny smile, though, and Sylvain counts that as a win. 

“So,” Sylvain says a little while later as he packs up everything they don’t need for the night. “We don’t have anything to make a fire. I can keep one up for a bit with magic, but we’ll have to huddle together for warmth.” 

Felix gives him an unimpressed look. “Of course we do.”

“Felix!” Sylvain protests. “I’m not just saying that to have an excuse to cuddle with you. We actually do need to.”

“Mm.” Felix finishes packing his bag and sets it up in a protected nook with Sylvain’s. “Fine.”

Sylvain reaches deep inside himself for the spark of magic that burns within, letting it all rush down his arm until a rune bursts to life with a flame that rests, comfortable and warm, in his palm. He needs to keep his concentration, or it will quickly turn against him and burn him. But he has always been good at this kind of thing. He just doesn’t like people knowing about it. With Felix, though, it’s okay. It always is.

“C’mon,” he murmurs, holding out his arm. Felix puts up the act of being reluctant, but he almost immediately crawls over, tucking himself under Sylvain’s arm, where he belongs. Sylvain’s heart squeezes in his chest, and he allows himself a small smile as Felix, refusing to make eye contact with him, presses his face into his chest.

They sit like that for a long while, the wind howling and screaming outside. It beats against his cloak, but they’re safe in this little cocoon they’ve created. Sylvain leaves his brain on autopilot, keeping the flame at a steady consistency in his hand to warm their bodies, while a fragment of his mind wanders. 

Though their mission is to find Dimitri, his thoughts these days are occupied by nothing but Felix. As his beloved’s breath evens out and he finally falls asleep, huddled in his warm embrace, Sylvain thinks about how devoted he is to him. He’d jump in front of a thousand blades, cut down endless enemies, and go through Ailell and back for his well-being. Anything and everything is worth it if it means they can make it through this war. 

With a small sigh, he leans down and presses a soft kiss to the top of Felix’s head with all the reverence of a priest in front of the Goddess herself. The swordsman’s sleeping form shifts a little, snuggling deeper into Sylvain’s arms. Sylvain will have to stay up all night to keep the flame going, but as always, it’s worth it. He’ll keep Felix warm until the end of his days. 

After all, he had promised.

* * *

_ Married  _

As he wakes, Felix shifts beneath the covers, delightfully sore in all the right places. It’s morning, but he finds that he doesn’t want to get up just yet. Beside him, Sylvain is still asleep, snoring softly. Felix snorts, observing his big lump of a husband. As always, Sylvain is running warm. It’s freezing outside, so Felix finds no qualms in shifting closer to Sylvain’s bulk, tangling their legs together and wriggling into his arms. 

He can hear when Sylvain’s breath changes, a small but significant inhale to signify that he’s woken up. “Hey, sweetheart,” he murmurs a few seconds later, sleepy mirth in his voice. Maybe he’s just marvelling that they’re here together, married, able to wake up in a soft bed without someone trying to stab them every day. Felix knows he himself still is. 

“Hey yourself,” he replies, tilting his head up to see Sylvain’s face. As always, the redhead’s eyes are impossibly soft and warm, like melted chocolate. It makes Felix’s cheeks tint red to be regarded with that much fondness. Despite Sylvain fucking him mercilessly into the mattress just last night, it still makes him more flustered to be smiled at  _ that  _ genuinely. 

“How was your sleep?” Sylvain asks, his big hand sliding down Felix’s side, coming to rest at his hip. It’s clear what he’s insinuating, and his hand is hot as a brand on his skin. 

Trying not to let his face grow any redder, Felix huffs, bumping Sylvain’s scruffy chin gently with the crown of his head. “It was fine. But I don’t want to get up.”

Sylvain gasps, a twinkle in his eye. “Duke Fraldarius, are you saying that  _ you _ want to sleep in today? Not visit the training grounds at the crack of dawn? Or finish your paperwork before noon so that you can challenge the stablehand to a duel?”

Felix wiggles an arm out of Sylvain’s embrace and places his hand on his husband’s big, dumb face to cover it, pouting indignantly. “Ugh, shut up. I’m just tired, okay? It’s cold and you’re warm.”

“Aww,” Sylvain coos, not one to be discouraged by palms squished into his face. He barrages it in kisses until Felix takes it away with a noise of pretend disgust. “You wanna cuddle the day away! I don’t blame you, honestly. We went pretty hard last night.”   
  
Felix scowls, but there’s no real anger behind it. “I said shut up.” He doesn’t make any attempt to correct his husband, however. He nudges and burrows between him and the covers until he gets Sylvain laying on his side, with him deep in his embrace. His head rests comfortably on his bare chest, where he can hear the soft, rhythmic beating of his heart. He’s content and so, so warm.

He feels Sylvain’s hand in his hair, stroking down the long, silky strands in soothing motions. “How did I get so lucky?” he murmurs. 

Felix huffs again, softer this time. “That’s my line.” He can feel his wedding ring on his finger, the metal long warmed by its proximity to his skin. 

“I get to be married to the most amazing guy ever, Fe,” Sylvain chuckles, kissing the top of his head. He does that a lot, Felix muses, but he’s not complaining. “I think that makes me the luckiest. You’re the strongest in any type of combat, breathtakingly handsome, wickedly sexy…” He grins, caressing Felix’s cheek. Felix can feel Sylvain’s ring, too. Warm. “Should I go on?”

“Syl _ vain, _ ” Felix whines, burying his face in his chest. Embarrassment at the praise rises inside, but he tries to push it down. He knows that Sylvain is speaking from the heart, and he truly believes every word. Felix will try to believe it, too.

Sylvain laughs, and Felix is reminded that the sound is still the most beautiful thing he’ll ever hear. “I think you get the picture. But I’m ready to wax poetic about my husband at any moment. I hope you know that.” 

Felix does. He does and it aches, because he’s so, so in love with this man that it doesn’t even feel possible. “Yeah, yeah,” he mumbles, not raising his head. “I thought you said we were gonna sleep in.” 

“So you admit that you deserve to have poetic waxed about you?” He can hear the smile in Sylvain’s voice, see it in his mind’s eye. 

“No,” he mutters. “Go to sleep.” 

Sylvain knows when he means what he says and when he doesn’t, so he only hums happily, tangling his hand in his hair and cradling his skull. “Alright, Fefe. A few hours won’t hurt,” he whispers, kissing his head one more time before settling in. 

Felix almost wants to weep at the tenderness of it all. Who would ever think that he, someone who was more acquainted with swordfaire and war than anything resembling romance, could deserve someone like Sylvain as his husband? 

Before he can think too much about it, he snuggles into Sylvain’s chest and exhales contentedly. His husband is warm, and safe, and  _ home _ . He always has been. And he doesn’t expect that to change anytime soon. 

So he closes his eyes, hugs Sylvain tighter, and drifts back to sleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> RT this fic and art on twitter if you'd like!! 
> 
> @RomanoJet / @EarthyTruce


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